/BITCHSLAPS SELF
OKAY OKAY FUCK THIS GRAGH
I'm sick and tired of a) having crappy ideas, b) having no feasible ideas, and c) giving myself excuses to not write. SO SO SO
PROMPT ME GUYSJust. The characters you want, along with your prompt. It can be a word, a picture, a song... And uh, give me a rating if you specifically want porn, or specifically don't want it. ( Read more... )
I'm sick and tired of a) having crappy ideas, b) having no feasible ideas, and c) giving myself excuses to not write. SO SO SO
PROMPT ME GUYSJust. The characters you want, along with your prompt. It can be a word, a picture, a song... And uh, give me a rating if you specifically want porn, or specifically don't want it. ( Read more... )
Koujuuro picks it up and weighs it in his hand. It is light, the hilt sharp and cold against his skin. He draws it out, and places it between two of his fingers. A shift of his hand, and the skin breaks, blood welling out like enlightenment from its well, and Koujuuro smiles like he doesn't mean it.
Masamune-sama!
A barrage of gunshot. Wide grey eyes. The din of six swords falling onto a stone floor.
Koujuuro places the tip in between his ribs. His skin trembles, and his breathing hitches, nearing backing away from the blade by instinct. But he clenches he jaw and remains in that position, and closed his eyes.
Akechi Mitsuhide's smile, gleaming and dark. A swing of the scythe. Koujuuro trips and falls to the ground as Masamune pushes him out of the way, taking the blow directly onto himself.
Skin splits. Bones breaks cleanly. Blood splashes against the floor, dyeing everything redredredred and Koujuuro doesn't know he can hate a colour so much until now.
He presses the blade in, piercing the skin. Hot blood trails down his stomach, but he ignores it, stabbing into himself even more. His breaths have become shallow and uneven, but a small smile is starting to curve his lips.
Masamune's mouth open into a silent scream. Head thrown back, eyes impossibly wide. That usual triumphant gleam faded; grey dulling into black.
Their men's screams. Captain! Captain! Oh my god, someone get a healer!
CAPTAIN!
Fuck... Koujuuro... Masamune's bloodied hand, clenching the front of his shirt. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but only blood manages to escape that throat.
He dies frowning, words still trapped in his throat.
His own skin splits like paper under the sharp, sharp blade of the tanto. Koujuuro shakes in his seiza, hair falling into his eyes and casting a shadow over it as he feels his own blood spill out to the floor in a torrent.
"Masamune-sama..." he grits out, barely breathing through the pain.
Koujuuro picks up his master's six swords, threading his hands through them. He knows how to use them; he knows every technique that Masamune knows.
He is the one who taught Masamune them, after all.
He closes his eyes and draws them out of their sheathes. Akechi Mitsuhide watches him, and laughs, and laughs, holding out his two scythes as if they are a divine command. Stand down, his smile seems to mock. A right eye is useless without its owner.
Koujuuro's returning smile is darker than a forest at night. He lifts his swords, and strikes. Guns fire around him, tearing into his clothes and his arms and legs and hips and everywhere but he's far past caring.
Masamune's six swords carve three paths down Akechi Mitsuhide's chest, and pierces through it to tear out the heart.
The tanto makes a dull clink as it drops onto the ground. Koujuuro falls over, his forehead pressing against the tatami as he bleeds his life out.
"Masamune-sama," he tries again, his voice thick and heavy but these are words he has to say. "I, Koujuuro, will be with you shortly. Please wait."
He will not break his promise.
I will be beside you forever.
Koujuuro's dying smile is one of relief.
Junshi - the following of one's Lord into death.
***
SCREAM THIS IS SO HORRENDOUS WHAT WAS I THINKING
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